It Came As a Shock
by RogueHunter06
Summary: She hadn't expected to care about him. Nor had she expected the womanizing Warden to care about her. But her feelings for him had crept up on her, and he had been careful to tell her exactly what she wanted to hear. *A rare glimpse into Morrigan's POV from my story, Together Or Not At All. Cousland Warden. Can be read as a stand-alone. M for lemons*


_Author's Note: As mentioned, this is a glimpse into Morrigan's POV from my Dragon Age story, Together or Not At All. I don't think you will need to have read that to enjoy this, but you might understand some of the events and people mentioned more fully. As this is a one-shot that's sort of lifted from the story, it's not fully structured as a chapter. It more reflects Morrigan's thoughts and some of her memories of past events, and then ends with a current event. The end bit takes place during Chapter 40 in the story. For those that follow my story that are reading this, Chapter 41 will be delayed a week because I was finishing this._

_This was done as a request by a few readers who have wanted to see what Morrigan was thinking, or see more of her and Aedan's romance. If people like it and ask for more, I might add other glimpses into her POV (or Aedan's) into this story later on. Anyway, hope you all enjoy, and I'd love to hear what you think - **PLEASE REVIEW!**_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan, the other DA characters, or the bits of her dialogue that came straight from the game. Everything else is mine, however! Also, there are lemons at the end. You have been warned if you don't like them._

It Came As a Shock

Events had not exactly gone according to her plan since leaving the Wilds, Morrigan reflected as she awaited Aedan in their room at Tapster's. Not at all according to the plan she had concocted for herself, actually. Initially she had thought her reluctance to leave the Wilds, her resentment towards her mother for making her go, had been because she thought she would hate it, hate those she travelled with. She had expected they would revile her and remove her from their group as soon as possible.

Now, however, she realized that her true fear, deep down where she had not analyzed it or admitted it to herself before, had not been that she would hate the experience. No, she had been more afraid that she would enjoy it far too much, enjoy the company of the intriguing dark-haired male Warden far too much. That it – that he - would shake her to her core. And that was the fear that had come true.

She was no longer the woman who believed in power and survival only, who held only disdain about caring for others. No, now she had not only her handsome Warden that she cared about far more than she'd expected, but a woman she had come to view as a friend, perhaps even a sister. And she had found herself changing, doing things she would not normally condone or viewed as impractical, simply because it made them happy. Both of them were far too compassionate, too willing to jump into danger for the sake of others, which meant she had to go along with their plans, despite her better judgment, if she did not want anything to happen to them. At least they were slightly more practical than others in the group, though.

The rest of their party she cared little for; they were all useful in their own way, but it would not grieve her in the slightest should something happen to any of them. But it _would_ upset Aedan and Ayla, and for that reason alone, she found herself ensuring that they all lived through their experiences. She'd even helped that fool Templar simply because her friend, her sister, would be devastated if something happened to him. Surprisingly, she'd found him more tolerable of late; Ayla's love for him, and his love for her, oddly seemed to be making him less of an idiot. Most of the time, at any rate.

But all of that was not even the worst of it. No, the worst of it all was she'd fallen prey to a trap she'd told herself she was above; one that she swore she would never succumb to. And it was all because of Aedan; that damnably fascinating, intelligent, provoking, insufferably smug man who was impressive in so many ways.

She had gone into the journey planning to seduce him, of course, as ordered by her mother. He was the far more acceptable of the two choices she had, after all. But she hadn't expected to care about him. Nor had she expected the womanizing Warden to care about her. But her feelings for him had crept up on her, and he had been careful to tell her exactly what she wanted to hear. So it had come as a shock to find she'd fallen in love with Aedan Cousland, and he loved her in return.

She had not realized it, not fully, until the moment he'd fallen in battle against the broodmother. Her own reaction to seeing his fall had alarmed and terrified her. The grief and pain had ripped through her, and she had screamed in denial without even realizing she had done it. A saving rage had quickly followed; a desire to obliterate the darkspawn that had wounded him. The rage had powered a lightning spell greater and more destructive than any she had ever attempted before; there had been nothing left of the enemies around him but ash.

She had hurried to his side immediately after that, drawing upon all the magic that she had learned from the meddlesome old woman to heal his grievous wound after she had removed the offending sword. When she had first asked the old woman to teach her the art of healing, she had claimed it was merely to make herself more useful, and because she was certainly capable of performing any feat a Circle mage could. But in that moment, she admitted it might have also been driven by a desire to save Aedan's life if need be. Because, she realized then, she did not want to lose him. Not now, not ever.

She had been badly shaken by that incident and the realization of the true depth of her feelings for him. She, who had always been so disdainful of love, so sure that it was worthless. So sure that her sister Ayla, despite how highly she regarded her normally, was an utter fool for falling prey to it. And yet, she had finally been unable to deny it, unable to deny that the growing feelings she'd been trying to suppress were, in fact, that same useless emotion. She loved her irritatingly handsome Warden, against her own nature, against her own wishes and desires.

When he'd finally awoken later, in the corner of that room down in the Deep Roads where Alistair had ordered them to retreat to, his head still in her lap as she waited for him to regain consciousness after the healing spells both she and Wynne had applied, she had received yet another shock. In the unguarded moment when he'd seen her face immediately upon waking, he had smiled at her with such warmth and _love_ in his eyes, she'd realized he returned her feelings, in spite of his claims otherwise.

She'd had her suspicions about his feelings for her before then, certainly, but any time she'd brought it up, he'd always been quick to dismiss the notion that he had any deeper feelings for her. He had always manipulated her into believing he was only interested in a physical relationship; that all he wanted was what she had initially asked for: sex, lust, and passion. She should have known better, however. One of Aedan's many talents was his silver tongue, his ability to easily guide others into believing – and doing – whatever he wanted.

In that moment, seeing his true, unguarded feelings for the first time, she realized he'd only been telling her what she wanted to hear. He'd allowed her to believe that lust was all there was between them, so she would not flee before his trap closed. And she had not, not before it was too late, as she now knew it was.

"You are a fool," she had told him sharply, angry and frightened, as he'd sat up and faced her. "You are a fool and so am I."

He hadn't denied it; he'd merely sighed and fixed her with a long look, his emotions back to being guarded and unreadable. "Are you referring to the fact that I lo –"

"Do not say it!" She'd snapped at him, cutting his words off, her heart pounding with anxious tension in her chest. "You should not feel that way about me. And I . . . have allowed myself to become . . . too close. This is a weakness, for us both."

He'd nodded, slowly. "It can be a weakness, if you let it," he'd responded simply. "It can also be a strength, however."

She'd shaken her head frantically at him, terrified as she could never remember being. "It cannot, and this is for your own good. I would not . . . I am not like other women. I am not worth your distraction. And you . . . are not worth mine." Though she'd said those words, she knew she did not truly believe them. Deep in her heart, she thought he was worth everything, and that was exactly why she could not allow this to happen.

He'd taken her hands in his, ignoring her attempts to pull away, and looked deep into her eyes with his stormy grey gaze she found so annoyingly appealing. "Morrigan . . . I know you are not like other women. That is why I feel about you the way that I do. And you are absolutely worth my distraction; I am completely certain of it."

She had not known what to say in the face of his conviction; he'd shaken her all over again. She wanted to push him away, but she could not find the words. "I . . . you are impossible," she'd replied at last. "Have it your way. But I will tell you truly now: you will regret it in the end."

"I won't, and you will never make me believe that," he'd answered implacably, before raising her hands to kiss them. He'd gone on to enquire what had happened while he had been unconscious, changing the subject and ignoring it for the remainder of the night thereafter.

The very next day, however, while the others had allowed them time alone together in their secluded corner of the room for Aedan to rest and recover, he'd dug something out of his pack and brought it back to present to her.

When he'd handed the beautiful, elaborate golden mirror to her with that warm smile on his face, she hadn't known what to say; she'd turned it over in her hands, studying it and realizing its similarity to the one she had told him about before. That was one of the things that had earlier endeared him to her; the fact that he had actually asked her questions about her life, had wanted to know more about her instead of limiting his interest to just the one thing that most men seemed to want from her. To find that he had not only asked but had listened closely and, more than that, had remembered, had made her heart swell with warmth for him all over again. Had she not already been in love with him before, that would have been the deciding moment, she felt sure.

"It is . . . just the same as the mirror which Flemeth smashed on the ground, so long ago," she had said softly, looking up at him, hoping she was at least somewhat disguising the wonder she felt. "It is incredible that you found one so like it. I am uncertain what to say. You must wish something in return, certainly."

He had shaken his head in return, his eyes softening. "Not at all. It's a gift, Morrigan, because it pleases me to please you."

"I have . . . never received a gift," she admitted, not knowing what else to say. What did one say in circumstances such as these? It was not one of the many things she'd been taught. "Not one that did not also come with a price attached."

"Well . . ." he'd shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable and embarrassed, as he always did before he revealed something of his true feelings, she'd noticed. "I would not attach a price to a gift for the woman that I . . . love."

Despite her qualms about the way they both felt, and her fear of the emotion in general, she had felt inexplicably happy upon hearing him say that, even as she'd frowned at him. "Do not say that."

He'd merely smiled at her in return, sweeping her his best courtly bow. "As you command, my lovely witch."

He was impossible, and maddening, and yet she did not want to lose him, now more than ever, she had thought to herself. So she had reached into her own pack and produced the ring that she had been debating with herself about giving him for a long time now. "I have something for you, as well. 'Tis a ring." She'd handed the simple ring to him, the one made of a twisted loop of rosewood, the grain of which seemed to constantly shift and change as one looked at it. Noting the widening of his eyes as he'd taken it from her, she'd continued before he could say anything further, "Now, before you get any foolish notions, let me explain. Flemeth once gave me the ring because it allowed her to find me no matter where I went, in case I was captured by hunters. I disabled its power as soon as we left the Wilds. Recently, however, I thought to change it. Now, I will be able to find whoever wears it, instead."

He'd been putting the ring on various fingers, trying to find the best fit, but he looked up at her now with a merry gleam in his eyes. "So, you want to always know where I am, then? To be able to find me? Do you think you'd miss me if I wasn't around?"

She had snorted in disdain, doing her best to keep her lips from twitching with the amusement she felt. She'd found herself doing this often around both him and Ayla – they both thought themselves rather amusing and sometimes they succeeded at being so. "I doubt it," she'd replied coolly, noticing that he'd remained unperturbed. "It is not to track you, you understand. I believe you are too important to risk. If you were to get captured, however, it would be far easier to find you with this."

He'd nodded in reply, adopting an air of great seriousness, though she could tell the gleam had not gone away. "So it's entirely for practical notions, then? Not even a little bit . . . romantic?"

She'd sighed in exasperation, and considered making another cutting remark, before going as close to the truth as she'd dared. "I . . . have no desire to see us part company so soon. Not unless we wish to, that is," she'd amended. When a wide grin had split his face at this remark, she had continued hastily, "Do not read more into it than is there. You have supplied me with equipment; certainly this is not so very different, is it?"

His grin had turned insufferably smug by this point, as it was wont to do at times, as he replied airily, "Oh, if you say so. It's not at all a present because you love me, then." He'd finally ended up putting the ring itself on, and studied it on his hand for a moment before looking up at her, his face entirely serious as he'd said quietly, "Thank you for the gift, Morrigan."

She could deal better with him when he wasn't being serious, she'd decided, suddenly uncomfortable. And was she actually blushing, of all things? "You . . . are welcome," she'd replied quietly, as she wrapped the mirror he'd given her and tucked it carefully away. "Perhaps it will be useful, some day."

He had merely nodded in response to that before kissing her with a passion that had taken her breath away; but given where they were, and the presence of the others in the same room, they had not gone further than that. They'd had no real opportunity to be alone since then as they had gone on to find the Anvil of the Void before exiting the Deep Roads as rapidly as possible. So now she was waiting for him to come back from the dwarven Assembly, allowing them an opportunity to be truly alone for the first time since she'd realized how she felt about him.

But what was she going to do once she had him alone? She did not know. She wanted him badly, but at the same time, she was still utterly terrified of this love she held for him. This . . . _dependency_ she had on him and this need for him to be alive and well. The whole thing was so very foreign to her. She'd declined to wait downstairs with the others, hoping that she would have time to decide her course of action when Aedan finally did return, but she'd had no luck so far. And the sound of the heavy, booted footsteps coming towards the door told her she was out of time.

The door opened and Aedan came through, looking incredibly weary, still dressed in his battered, dirty armor, as he'd gone straight from the Deep Roads to the Assembly of the dwarves. His face lit up when he saw her pacing back and forth in the middle of the room, waiting for him. "Morrigan, why didn't you wait downstairs with the others?" he asked, crossing the room to her as he closed the door behind him.

She sniffed, trying to ignore the fact that her heart rate increased at the sight of him. "Why should I wish to be down in a noisy tavern with drunken dwarves?"

"Oh, I don't know," he replied, grinning. "Because our friends are down there as well?" When she rolled her eyes, he went on, "You could at least have spent some time together with Ayla. She is your friend, is she not?"

Morrigan shrugged, not denying it. "Perhaps I did not wish to see that fool Templar slobbering all over her." When Aedan sighed and shook his head, though he was unable to stifle a smile at her description, she finally decided to tell him the true reason. "Or, perhaps . . . I merely wished some time alone with you, as we so rarely get any time alone together. I . . ."

She was startled, a muffled gasp coming from her, when he cut off her words with a kiss. It was hard, hungry, and heated, and he slammed her into the wall of the room with the force of his ardour, but she cared not. As soon as the wall was at her back, she returned the kiss in equal measure, welcoming the flare of heat his touch always awakened within her. She wrapped her legs tightly around him, forcing their bodies closer together, gripping his head tightly with one hand, his shoulder with the other as she devoured his mouth with hers, sending light, tingling shocks of her lightning magic through him. She loved the little growls and moans that never failed to elicit from him. She may not share her affections as publicly as her sister did with _her_ Warden, but she had no reservations about anything they did in private.

When it seemed her lungs must burst for want of air, he pulled his mouth from hers, breathing deeply, and moved to her neck, sucking hard on the skin there. He pressed his nose against her neck briefly and breathed in deeply. "You smell so good," he groaned against her skin, and the rough sound of his voice heated her blood yet further. He jerked his head up, looking suddenly guilty. "Ah . . . perhaps I should bathe."

She could not help but smile as she realized he _was_ still completely filthy from their weeks of travel in the Deep Roads. "I did have a bath drawn up for you," she pointed out, indicating the steaming tub in the corner she had ordered the dwarves to prepare for him. "You might have noticed had you bothered to look. There is food on the table as well."

A wide smile spread across his face. "My lovely . . ." He kissed her neck again, nibbling on it briefly, moving to the other side as he continued, "lovely . . . witch." That was another thing she'd always liked about him; rather than using witch as a scornful insult for her, as most did, he used it as a term of endearment. "You do think of absolutely everything, don't you?" He finished with a long, slow, tender kiss, that suffused her body with a heady warmth before he set her back down, pulling away.

The intensity of that warmth, the shattering intimacy of that last kiss, the way his eyes flared silver as he looked at her with equal parts love and lust; it was all too much for her. She felt overwhelmed, panicked, frightened. Her heart was beating much too fast and her palms were sweating as he moved towards the bath, unbuckling his armor. "Now that I've gotten you all dirty, you will have to bathe again," he said, turning to smile at her with wicked invitation.

Ordinarily, she would have been happy to respond to his invitation in kind, but it was too much right now. It was too intense, too frightening. She just could not deal with it. "I – no. I do not wish to. I am . . . not in the mood." She was, her body protested. It was aching with longing for him, but she ignored it. Her emotional distress was greater.

His eyebrows shot up, his fingers stalling briefly on his armor before resuming their task, the pieces falling to the ground. "What do you mean? You certainly seemed to be in the mood for it a moment ago."

"Well, I am not any longer," she snapped, annoyed that he was pressing the matter. " I do not leap at your command like a trained mabari warhound."

He had just stripped off the cotton tunic he wore beneath his armor, leaving his well-muscled chest bare, which caused both an ache in her loins and one in her heart at the sight of the scar the healing had been unable to prevent; the one that showed she'd nearly lost him. He looked up at her and frowned, confusion etched across his face. "What in the Maker's name brought this on?"

"I warned you, did I not?" she demanded, trying to hide the fear and pretend she was only angry at him, but she did not know whether she was fully successful. "I told you that this was a weakness that was driving me mad. And yet you insisted."

He crossed the room back over to her, now wearing only his cotton leggings, the concern in his gaze making her realize she had not fooled him at all. "Why are you so frightened?" he asked her softly, taking her hands in his own.

She gazed back at him helplessly, not wanting to reveal her vulnerability and yet finding herself unable to hold back. "'Tis all so . . . unexpected," she admitted at last. "I have no experience with any of it. And yet I find myself wanting it. Hungering for it. For you." Her anxiety grew, overwhelming her when he didn't say anything immediately, causing her to blurt out, "That is not right, is it? That is not how a normal woman acts? I can see it in your eyes. Release me. Tell me that you wish to end this. Make me believe you and I . . . will be grateful."

"No," he snapped, his face darkening with a sudden anger. "I will not. If you do not wish to be with me any longer, Morrigan, then _you_ have to be the one to end it. I will not end this, I don't want it to end; I have no intention of letting you go unless you run from me."

They stared at one another for a long moment, the anger slowly fading from his face when she did not immediately reject him. She, however, still felt both panicked and terrified, like a deer trapped in the sight of a wolf and unable to move for fear of what would happen. It was not a sensation she was accustomed to, and she hated herself in that moment for feeling it, and him for making her feel it.

And yet, though part of her wanted to be able to tell him she would end this, that she would run from him because she no longer wanted him, she still could not bring herself to say it. She had demanded he release her because she did not have the strength to pull herself free, she realized. "You miserable, selfish bastard," she choked out at last, admitting defeat. "You will regret this. And so will I. And . . . perhaps that is how it must be." He would come to hate her in the end, she knew, once he found out the reason she'd truly come along.

"I am selfish," he agreed, closing the distance between them, his hands going to her waist and pulling her closer. "Too selfish to ever give you up unless you make me. And no matter how many times you say it, you will never convince me that I will regret it."

"You are . . . completely impossible and utterly maddening," she sighed, giving in as she swayed closer to him. His hands slid up her back and he pulled her in for another fiery kiss. The kiss was so much better without the barrier of his armor between their bodies, when she could feel the hard, insistent pulse of his need pressed against her, so close to where her own body throbbed for him.

"And you love me for it," he murmured when he pulled back, smiling at her when she didn't disagree with him. "Now, are you going to join me in the bath willingly, or must I carry you there?"

She started in surprise when she realized he'd managed to slip her hood up above her head in preparation to take it off, and smiled. "Well, I suppose if I am getting undressed, I have little choice, do I?"

"No, you do not," he agreed, removing the hood and its attached piece of tunic with her assistance. In short order, they had one another undressed between heated kisses and caresses, and though she reached for him, noticing how aroused he already was, he backed away from her towards the tub. "I would like to be at least a little cleaner for you first," he told her, grinning even as his eyes blazed silver as they swept over her naked body. He stepped in the large brass tub and sat down, the groan he made as he sank into the hot water utterly appealing.

She sashayed towards him, putting extra sway into her hips as she went, noticing with utter feminine pride how his eyes followed her every movement, though he was trying to wash himself hastily at the same time. When she reached the tub at last, she climbed in and sank down, straddling his legs, her upper body only inches from his. She took the cloth from him. "Allow me," she breathed, loving the hitch in his breath as she rocked slightly on his lap.

But she did not move the few inches it would take to impale herself on him; not just yet. Instead, she lathered up the cloth with soap, and slowly rubbed it over every inch of his torso, cleaning him very slowly and very thoroughly. She rinsed the soap off before kissing, licking, and sucking the areas she'd just cleaned. When he reached for her, tried to hurry her up and tempt her with his own caresses, she knocked him back with a light blast of magic, and he smirked, leaning back and allowing her to continue, though his breathing was growing ragged and his chest was heaving.

Every so often, she would move forward that little bit so that her burning core would just brush up against the length of his erection, which was rock hard at this point. The contact would cause him to shudder and moan, and she was getting very close to the point of no return herself, but she wanted him to beg for it. Her body ached for the touch of his hands and mouth, but she knew he ached to touch her even more, so she denied them both for the moment.

"Morrigan," he rasped out, his head tilted back as she brushed her hands over the rippling muscles of his abdomen, trailing them down the thin line of his dark hair to his manhood. "Morrigan, please . . ." He let out a low, almost inhuman noise when she brushed her soap-slicked hand over him. The sound made her own body throb with insistent need, as she welcomed that heavy, molten feeling low in her abdomen. "Morrigan," he gasped as she stroked her hand over him again, "I'm begging you . . ."

"Well, if you are begging, then . . ." she smiled slyly, trying to ignore how breathless she felt herself. She let him go, before she braced herself on her shoulders and sank down on him in one fluid movement. He growled as she moaned, an incredible satisfaction flowing through her as he filled her.

When she halted for a moment, savouring the sensation of him inside her, he launched into action, claiming her mouth savagely. His hands were suddenly everywhere, rolling her nipple between his fingers, squeezing her breasts, her buttocks, trailing over her, his fingers unerringly finding her most sensitive spot and stroking slowly, then faster. Her hips jerked and she let out a strangled cry, watching as he pulled back and a smug grin spread over his face at the sound.

That was all it took to push her into action herself; she began riding him fast and hard, rolling and twisting her hips as her own hands and mouth were everywhere on him. He met her stroke for stroke, his hips rising up to crash against hers. They duelled fiercely for control as need built within them both, as she felt herself began to teeter on the edge, her body tightening around him. As she felt herself sliding ever closer to that edge, she nipped at his earlobe and whispered, "I do love you, Aedan, my Warden."

She leaned back to meet his eyes, wide and burning with need, as he thrust hard into her one last time and she felt him release deep within her as she finally slipped over the edge into an explosion of pleasure. "Morrigan, my love," he moaned into her ear as she collapsed on top of him, and they both went limp from their release.

Later, in the bed, after they had spent themselves in each other's arms once more, he chuckled softly beneath her. "I think I was supposed to go back down to re-join the others. I suppose it is far too late now."

"'Tis much too late, and I am not nearly finished with you yet," she informed him. If she was unable to part from him, she might as well make use of their time together, she decided.

"Oh?" he grinned, a teasing light in his eyes as he brushed back her hair. "By all means, use me as much as you would like, my beautiful witch. I am yours to command."

"I will, " she assured him, smiling in spite of herself. "In a few more moments. " She hesitated before going on softly, "About the request I made of you before we came to Orzammar . . ."

He raised his head a little bit further, meeting her gaze steadily. "About confronting your mother, do you mean? Don't worry, I've not changed my mind. When we are back in Redcliffe and the Arl is preparing for the Landsmeet, I will go to confront her directly."

"You should not go alone, though," she warned him, her heart seizing with worry for him. "My mother is dangerous. I cannot accompany you, but I will speak to Ayla. Since . . . we are friends, perhaps she would be willing to help also."

"And then talk Alistair into it, too?" Aedan asked, raising a brow at her.

"Well, I am reluctant to admit it, but he _would_ be useful," she admitted begrudgingly. "Besides, though he bears no love for me, he would not allow Ayla to go into danger without him."

"That is true," Aedan agreed, his expression unreadable again, as it so often was, which frustrated her to no end. "Well, if it will make you feel better, speak to Ayla about it, then. If she agrees, I will take her with me to see Flemeth when we get back to Redcliffe."

Giving in to a moment of weakness, she caressed his cheek gently and kissed him tenderly, pulling back to see a look of shock and wonder on his face. "Thank you. For . . . agreeing to put yourself in danger to protect me. No one has ever . . . thank you."

He smiled, his whole face glowing with sudden warmth. "I will always protect you, Morrigan."

She nearly gasped with the flood of warmth that statement elicited in her, even as she felt sudden panic. What if the Blight claimed this Warden she had grown to love so dearly, despite her best efforts? What if he died trying to protect _her_, of all things? "I . . . you should not be so . . ." she exclaimed, panicked. "You have no idea what will happen in days to come, to make such promises."

"You are right," he agreed again, his face softening as he stroked her back soothingly. "I don't know what will happen. I do know, however, that as long as I am alive, I will keep that promise."

Uncertain of what to say in the face of such a declaration, she finally answered, "Then . . . I will do my best to keep you alive, as well. For as long as I am able."

He smiled. "Thank you, my love. Now, I think I need to sleep before you make use of me again."

"Yes," she nodded, "perhaps that is best. You look weary." She laid her head down on his chest as he pulled her tighter to him, settling down to sleep. She would, she vowed to herself, keep him alive through this Blight. Even if he despised her in the end for it, once he discovered why she had come with him, it would not matter, because at least he would be alive. Even if nothing else went to her plans, she would get both Wardens through the defeat of the archdemon, alive and well, for her sake and for her sister's. That was the only plan that mattered anymore.


End file.
